Author: Richard Cox

I’m not sure I have any grand advice, but a few simple things have stayed true for me over the years.

First, the best camera for any scene is the one you have with you. Cell phones are real cameras — I’ve won first place in photo competitions with an image taken on a phone. Don’t underestimate what you can create with whatever is in your hand.

Second, take your time. Study your photos. Ask yourself what’s working, what isn’t, and how you might improve it. Revisit scenes after you’ve had time to reflect and learn; often the second or third visit produces the stronger photograph.

And finally, don’t get discouraged. When you see a beautiful photo book, it’s easy to imagine the photographer just “gets it right” every time. In reality, that book might represent 100,000 attempts distilled down to a few dozen images. Progress comes from showing up, shooting, and learning, not from perfection.

Most of my photography relies on natural light. I prefer to shoot at the camera’s base ISO — many of mine are rated at ISO 64 — because it gives the cleanest possible file. That said, I’ve learned to accept higher ISO settings when the situation calls for it. Sometimes the moment matters more than the noise.

I’m primarily a manual shooter and rarely use automatic modes. That doesn’t mean I avoid them entirely. For casual walk‑around sessions, I’ll often use Auto ISO, but with limits set so the camera never pushes the ISO higher than I’m comfortable with. It gives me a bit of flexibility while still keeping creative control.

I don’t rely on any one lens, and I prefer it that way. I let the scene dictate the lens, not the other way around. In fact, I stopped keeping a lens permanently attached to my camera specifically so I’m forced to pause and ask, “What lens does this moment really call for?”

That small habit keeps me intentional. It reminds me to respond to the scene in front of me rather than defaulting to whatever lens happens to be on the camera.

At the end of a day of photography, I import everything into Lightroom. My files are stored on disk in a structured, date‑based system organized by year and shooting day. For example, a photo taken on May 15, 2025 at 10:34:14 would be saved as: Images/2025/2025-05-15/REC-20250515_103415.nef“REC” is simply the photographer’s initials. This structure makes it easy to find any image later, no matter how far back it goes.

For storage, I use three identical drives. I synchronize my primary photo drive to the first backup drive, and then I keep a second backup drive at another location. Every so often, I bring the master drive to that off‑site location and update the backup there. It gives me peace of mind knowing that my entire archive exists in multiple places.

I don’t share RAW files, and I don’t use or distribute editing presets. If I ever create photo‑editing tutorials or a class, I might provide RAW files specifically for learning purposes, but not for general use.

As for presets, I’ve never been a fan of them. Presets tend to drive the photo, and I prefer to be the one making the creative decisions. For me, the image should come from intention, not from a predefined look.

This is a question I get a lot on field trips. People often ask, “What settings are you using?” and my response is usually, “What are you trying to say? What do you want to bring out in the image?”

I don’t follow a cookbook of camera settings, nor do I believe in one. The creative idea should drive the camera — not the other way around. Every scene, every subject, and every intention calls for something different. Once you know what you want the photograph to express, the settings naturally fall into place.

A lot of my photography locations happen by chance, but I do have certain themes I’m always on the lookout for. I’m drawn to old buildings that are still in use — places that show a bit of Americana still alive and functioning. I’m also constantly searching for unique landscapes, cityscapes, and oceanscapes.

Some themes are harder to find, like what I call “lollipop trucks” and other businesses with over‑the‑top façades — airplanes crashing through walls, trucks bursting out of storefronts, anything with a bit of playful exaggeration.

And because I’m a pilot and love aviation, I’m always keeping an eye out for interesting aviation scenes as well. Many of my favorite images come from simply noticing something unusual or compelling while I’m out exploring.

No. Even with the GeoLog iOS app I’m building, I’m not looking to earn anything from it — the enjoyment comes from the work itself. Taking on traditional paid jobs often brings the pressure to create a “perfect” piece of work, along with the stress that comes with meeting expectations, and that’s not the experience I’m looking for anymore.

That said, if someone approaches me with a project, I’m always open to creating something on my own timeline and offering the finished piece for purchase. In the past, for example, a corporation asked for a body of work for their downtown Boston office, which became the “Boston at Night” series.

I also enjoy the idea of an occasional, more elaborate photo shoot — discussing the creative goals, the message, and even choosing the right location together. But for me, that’s about the fun of the photographic process, not about returning to professional work.

Now that I’m semi‑retired, I’ve had the privilege and opportunity to travel throughout the United States — exploring state and national parks, as well as the many cities, towns, and communities along the way. I’m constantly taking in the scenery around me and looking for meaningful ways to capture what I discover. The landscapes, the small details, and the sense of place I encounter on these trips continue to inspire the images I create.

I never fully considered myself a professional photographer, even though I spent about five years doing part‑time wedding work and took on several commercial assignments. Today, my photography is almost entirely self‑assigned — personal projects, experiments, and ideas I pursue simply because they interest me.

What’s changed most is the pace and the purpose. I enjoy working slowly now, giving myself the space to explore, refine, and follow creative impulses without deadlines or client expectations. That freedom has helped me reconnect with the expressive side of photography and focus on the images that feel meaningful to me.